


wrong number?

by tonyscaps



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Dom Steve Rogers, Drinking, Hurt Tony, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Phone Sex, Sexting, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 02:08:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15475146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonyscaps/pseuds/tonyscaps
Summary: in which a drunk tony stark tries to send nudes to his ex-girlfriend, but sends them to a certain star-spangled captain instead. he's not mad about it. he's not even embarrassed about it.





	wrong number?

Tony had hit a couple of low points in his day, but sitting in his workshop accompanied solely by his bots and a bottle of his finest scotch, this was the lowest of all of them.

Almost halfway through his bottle, Tony couldn’t bring himself to tinker with any of the projects that surrounded him. Dum-E nudged his foot lovingly, trying to bring Tony back out of his downward spiral, but all the bot got in return was a frustrated grunt as Tony sent him back to his charging station. 

It had been almost a week since Pepper left him, and he wanted her back—he wanted her back _bad_. And Tony, always the man with the plan, knew exactly how to do that. 

“Jarvis?” Tony asked, cutting through the silence. If his bots could show emotion, they were hopeful, gears whirring after hearing Tony speak for the first time in days. Tony caught himself looking at the ceiling to address his AI, something that he had picked up from Steve and the rest of the Avengers, and chuckled ruefully at himself. “Jarvis, where did I leave my phone?”

“Sir, your phone hasn’t moved from the coffee table. You put it there when you came back from—“ 

“Thank you, Jarvis,” Tony cut him off, sending a glare upward. He didn’t need a reminder of that night thank you very much. He stood slowly from his workbench and stumbled to the stairs, the scotch taking its effect. He hadn’t meant to drink as much as he did, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was going to win his Pepper back, and he had his liquid courage to thank for that. He made his way up the stairs as quickly as he could in his inebriated state, using the wall as both a balance and leverage to pull himself upwards.

Tony fell forward onto the couch once he’d made it safely to the living room, fumbling for his phone as he went. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, his feet coming up behind him as if he was a girl flipping through a teen magazine. He scrolled through the numerous text messages and missed calls on his phone, not really caring who had tried to contact him. If it was important, Jarvis would have told him. He thought, fleetingly, that it was a good thing no alien armies had tried to take over their planet in the last couple of days. Steve would kill him if he showed up to save the world with glassy eyes and alcohol on his breath. 

He had a couple of missed calls from Rhodey, who had eventually given up trying to call and left a text that said _Call me in a couple of days. Love you._ Tony scolded himself for not answering, but he made a mental note—he would call him tomorrow. He had four text messages from Steve and he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. It was probably something about that stupid new team building exercise that Captain Handsome wanted to try. He scrolled and scrolled, looking for something, anything from Pepper: a missed call, text message, email. Hell, he would take a business email if it meant that he could talk to her, but it didn’t look like anything at Stark Industries required his immediate attention. Go fucking figure.

 _Oh well_ , Tony thought to himself. He knew the best way to get her back. Make her miss him.

So he did what he was best at, covering his own emotions with raw sex appeal. In his drunken stupor, Tony Stark was going to sext his ex-girlfriend. 

This was the best idea he had ever had, and he had created his first bot before he’d even hit puberty. He swung his legs around and sat up straight on the couch, suddenly in a hurry to get his pants off. He shimmied his pants down around his ankles and to the floor, and his dirty band tee wasn’t far behind. In less than a minute, Tony sat in his big, empty living room in nothing but his small, black boxer-briefs. He clutched his phone, opening the camera and repositioning himself on the couch. He had his back to the massive windows behind him, setting a backdrop for his picture. Pepper would like that, he thought drunkenly, the New York City skyline in the background of his nudes. He kneeled on the couch and put his phone out in front of him, hesitating only a split second before deciding to grab himself with his free hand and taking the picture. He looked at it long enough to make sure he looked good and sent it without a second thought. The lower half of his face was in frame, showing off his trademark half-assed smirk and messy beard. 

His phone buzzed with a reply in less than a minute, and Tony’s heart could have leapt out of his chest.

Steve Rogers: _When I said I thought the team needed to get to know each other better, this is not what I meant, Tony._

Before he had a chance to come up with some sort of explanation, his phone buzzed again. This time with a picture message.

Steve Rogers: _But you showed me yours, I’ll show you mine._

Attached was a picture of Steve standing in front of his bathroom mirror—the bathroom that Tony designed for him—but that was something that only registered for the briefest of moments in the back of his mind. Suddenly, his attention was pulled directly to the man in the photo. He was wearing nothing but his gray underwear, the briefs straining against the muscles in the super soldier’s legs. He held his Stark phone in front of him and Tony cursed his own technology, because he wanted to see the rest of Steve’s chest. It surprised him how badly he wanted to see the rest of Steve’s chest. Suddenly, he didn’t remember who he was originally trying to text. 

Tony pulled his feet up under him, sitting on his couch and studying the image on his phone. Steve’s blonde hair was almost brunette with moisture, and he had probably just gotten out of the shower. His mouth was shaped into a small smirk; it was obvious that asshole knew how good he looked. His stomach muscles were rigid, and Tony couldn’t tell if Steve was flexing or if the serum had truly pulled the skin that _tight_ over his muscles. It wasn’t until the phone buzzed again that he realized he’d gotten so caught up staring, he never responded to Steve’s message. 

Steve Rogers: _….Wrong number?_

Tony’s fingers flew over the tiny keyboard on his phone before he even had time to think about it.

Tony Stark: _God no. Keep them coming, Cap._

Steve Rogers: _Don’t call me Cap._

With his message, Steve sent another picture. This time minus the underwear that were barely there to begin with. Tony groaned to himself and threw his head back on the couch. He put his feet on the floor in front of him and spread his legs wider than necessary, palming himself over his boxers. He snapped another picture of his hand around his bulge, this time making absolutely sure it was at an angle that flattered his size before he sent it.

Tony Stark: _Steve_

He imagined Steve’s response on the other side of the city. He grinned to himself as he thought about Steve wrapping a large hand around his cock, his hips jerking into his own hand involuntarily as he thought of Tony—pictured Tony’s hand instead of his own. The thought alone was enough take Tony from half hard to fully erect in no time at all. 

His phone buzzed again, and Tony checked, his other hand never leaving his cock. 

Steve Rogers: _Can’t wait to make you forget everything except for my name._

He tapped out a response, even though he knew the answer to his question before he asked it.

Tony Stark: _How are you going to manage that?_

Steve Rogers: _Can you think anything other than my name with my mouth around your dick?_

Tony gasped audibly; he never expected something like this from the Good Captain. But suddenly all he could think about was what it would feel like for Steve to suck him off—how it would feel to have his tongue pressed flat against the underside of Tony’s dick, for Steve to flick his tongue against the slit on the head. In a split second, Tony had stripped completely, his boxers joining the rest of his clothes on the living room floor. He started to stroke himself lazily, his other hand still holding his phone as he tried to think of something to say to Steve. 

Tony Stark: _Probably, but I don’t want to._

Tony Stark: _All I want to think about now is my dick in your mouth._

Instead of a text, Steve sent a picture next, his cock standing straight up and a hand wrapped firmly around it. Tony squeezed his eyes shut and stroked himself faster, precum starting to leak from the tip of his penis. He sent one last picture to Steve before throwing the phone onto the couch beside him and turning his full attention to the throbbing between his legs. He whimpered to himself as he used both hands, one at the base and his hips bucking up into the other. It was amazing how close he already was after only a few rough pumps, his calloused hands running over his slick cock with ease. The pressure began to build in his lower abdomen and his hips started to move sporadically; he only slowed down long enough to check the phone after it buzzed on the couch next to him. He opened the message from Steve.

Steve Rogers: _Thinking about your dick too._

Attached was a picture of Steve’s cum splattered across his broad chest; his lips were in frame, twisted into a smug grin. That was enough to send Tony over the edge, his orgasm wracking his whole body. He came in his hand, his breath coming in ragged moans and his legs trembling uncontrollably. He scooped his discarded shirt up from the floor to wipe himself clean and typed out a response to Steve.

Tony Stark: _Had to use my favorite shirt to clean myself up. Fuck you, Steve._

Tony moved to lay down on the couch, the days without sleep, the alcohol, and the vigorous orgasm catching up with him. He laid on his back with his phone resting over the arc reactor’s scar on his chest. The phone buzzed one final time and Tony read the text, a hesitant, disbelieving grin covering his face before he finally passed out.

Steve Rogers: _I’m hoping you will, Tony._

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this is my first work here, and it's the first ANYTHING that i've written in literally 8 years so please bare with me. i'm doing my best here. thank you for reading!


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